I wish for deep snow that’s packed down enough for sledding on but makes for a soft landing when you fall off at the bottom of the hill and lie there laughing.
I wish for Christmas carols sung in four-part harmony.
I wish to look out through frosted windows at a big white moon over the snowy lake.
I wish to harvest a wonderfully pathetic and sadly beautiful Charlie Brown Christmas tree from an ill-fated spot under the hydro wires.
I wish for a sense of peace and contentment for my Dad, my sister and I this Christmas, even though Mom’s chair will be empty at the table.
I wish for hours of quiet time spent with my nose in a great book.
I wish for that thick, muffled silence of a winter night in the Canadian woods.
I wish for my sister and I to re-create the perfectly cooked turkey Mom used to make, with giblets left over for my dog, Sammy Davis Junior Junior.
I wish for the giant logs Dad cut this fall to keep burning all night long in the wood furnace, so the frost isn’t nipping at our noses when we wake up in the morning.
I wish for the patience to stand long enough in the cold outside the back door so that the chickadees will eat out of my hand like they did when I was a kid.
I wish for the ability to let go of the things that don’t matter and to hold onto the things that do, and to be fully present in every precious, fleeting moment I get to spend with the people that I love.